


The Ash and the Opal

by FyreAlchemage



Category: Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:22:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29898303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FyreAlchemage/pseuds/FyreAlchemage
Summary: A piece only loosely edited and somewhat expanded from vent prose; an anonymous Hortator attempts to come to terms with loss.
Kudos: 2





	The Ash and the Opal

There is a silence in the air, though the wind still blows. There is no movement; the mer in the blue robes looks down at a carved piece of rainbow opal, staring at its many facets. They are in mourning though they know not why. They weren't on the greatest terms with the mer this stone represented, and now knowing he is gone brings a sort of finality to it all. Dead language, continued meaning: death of a former mentor. The mer continues to ruminate on this. This is not how it should have gone. They would have reconciled, healed, gotten over the attempted betrayal this mer had admitted was wrong. And now he is gone.

Ash covers the rainbow opal. The mer does not move to dust it off; to do so would signify that they still care. They don't. Or, they don't think they do. At length they take the carved opal in their hands. There is something yet they can do, but they know not where to begin. This daunting task looms before them, and as they begin the long walk back to civilization they stumble. They cannot do this. They cannot face those who had cast them out in the first place. They fall down, knees to the ash, hands let go of a glittering stone.

"Who am I to care about this? It was I who betrayed him; it was I who named myself, unwanted, undesirable, betrayer, fringe-dweller. I deserve this, and they would agree. They were right to cast out someone such as I, who dared to wear the face of another, who dared to join hands with their foes and dance with them."

They claw at the ash with every word. Animal. They do not deserve anything but the dust they feel in their fingers, under their nails, and they claw away. The air is thick with a feeling. At length, the mer stops, lying face down in the ash, a hand wrapped around the rainbow opal. If they do not care, then why are they—

It is not until nightfall that they return to their tent. They place the opal high, in its usual place, and now they wonder if they even deserve to show their face to anyone ever. They are the betrayer of the dead, and there is no hope for them.


End file.
